


Never Left You Broken

by 2012bookworm



Series: Drive All Night [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2012bookworm/pseuds/2012bookworm
Summary: It’s been a hard few days in the Poindexter household.





	Never Left You Broken

**Author's Note:**

> See endnotes for content warnings.

It’s been a hard few days in the Poindexter household, and Aunt Rachel had of course called on Christmas Eve to ask why they weren’t at Mass, and thankfully David hadn’t shown up either (Everyone – or at least Will – was suddenly grateful for his general agnosticism), so they’d got away with saying that they just hadn’t paid attention to the time, and that might have – could have – been it, but then today Uncle Jim had called Dad to ask if what David was telling everyone about Will was true, and it sort of spiraled out from there. Sarah, viciously, had pointed out that the delay was probably David deciding if he could deal with the shame of the rest of the family knowing that his little brother was gay, and Will had muttered something about being bi, actually, and to stop talking about David like that, and they’d gotten into a screaming match about the right to call someone family, and Gracie had ended up crying, again. Then there was the fact that Will had just stumbled over his mom crying over David’s Christmas presents, and frozen in indecision and terror before awkwardly offering her tissues and fleeing before they could have an actual conversation.

Needless to say, when Nursey calls him and starts the conversation with a far too hesitant “So…”, Will is not in the mood.

“Just spit it out, Nurse.” He says, pacing in the room that still felt not quite his anymore, trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to go back downstairs and hug his mom. And maybe apologize, though he’s not quite sure for what.

“Well, um, you know how I’m coming up there for New Years?” Nursey asks, still dancing around the fucking point.

“Yes.” Will stops moving. It didn’t sound like Nursey was canceling on him, but that was the only reason he could think of for this much…stalling. “Can you not come anymore? ‘Cause I get it, flights are expensive and I know it’s late notice and –“

“No.” Nursey interrupted. Will breathes a silent sigh of relief. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” Will asks when he doesn’t continue. 

He can literally hear the reluctance, even over the phone. “You know how my mom had work and couldn’t come with me?”

He sighs again, this one exasperated. “Nurse. Get to the fucking point.”

“She may have rearranged some things and is now coming?” Nursey says, so fast it almost sounds like one word.

“Ok.” Will says, confused as to why Nursey’s making such a big deal out of this. His mother would be thrilled. And he and Nursey’s mom had worked out there differences when they were there for the funeral. “That’s fine, I’ll just tell my mom and we’ll put her in Sarah’s room. Are you still getting in at the same time?”

Nursey splutters. “Yes, but, that’s – that’s not the point! This isn’t freaking you out? The fact that our parents are meeting?”

“No?” Will offers. “Should it be?”

“That your mom is meeting my mom? Yes, a little!”

Will shrugs, before remembering Nursey can’t see it. “I’m more worried about your mom meeting Sarah, to be honest.”

“Oh god.” Nursey’s voice is full of bleak realization. “Mom’s going to find out about the books.”

“That should be the least of your worries. Sarah’s really good at getting embarrassing stories out of people.” Will helpfully points out, wondering if he can guilt Sarah into using her powers for good, for once.

Nursey groans. Will starts snickering. “Yeah, yeah, laugh at my pain.”

“Sorry.” Will says, unrepentant. “If it helps, she’ll probably get them by trading my embarrassing stories, so…”

Nursey laughs. There's a pause, and his voice goes soft. “You’re really ok with this? It doesn’t feel…weird, or too fast, or anything like that?”

“I mean, yeah.” Will admits. Because it probably is too fast, isn’t it? They’ve only been dating six months – which, admittedly, is longer than a lot of people – but Will’s pretty sure their parents are only supposed to meet if they’re together long enough to want to do joint holidays. Which this sort of is. He shakes his head, dismissing that line of thought. “But it’s – it’s a good sort of weird? Honestly, the last few days have been pretty fucking awful and I’m – this doesn’t even really register on the scale of things to freak out about, I guess? I mean, normally I might be a little less…”

“Chill.” Nursey supplies.

“No, I refuse to use that word.” Will tells him, smiling and wishing Nursey was there to mock glare at. “Less calm. But now? I’m actually looking forward to it. I…I think it’ll be good, having other people here. There’s – there are too many places where David is missing.”

“Oh.” Nursey pauses, and tries for lightness. “But Will, she’s packing the family albums!”

Will snorts, gratefully taking the subject change. “First off, your mom doesn’t strike me as the scrapbooking type. Second, it’s only fair since you’ve already seen mine.”

“They’re not hers, my grandmother made them. And OMG Dex, you had so much red hair as a baby.”

Will rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed, ignoring the fact that even his baby pictures now cause a twinge of pain, considering how many also include a grinning, chubby cheeked David. “And such big ears, I know, I know.”

 

***

 

It was another two days before Will drove in to town to pick up Nursey and his mom at the airport, and things were still…off. Better, but off. That didn’t stop his jaw from dropping at the sight of Nursey in a bright pink flannel shirt.

“Dude, what? Since when do you own flannel?” Will asks as soon as he gets out of the car. “You hate flannel! You make fun of mine all the time!”

Nursey’s mom starts laughing. Nursey ignores her. “Chowder gave it to me for Christmas! I’m trying to blend in!”

Will looks him up and down, taking in the skinny jeans and truly terrible flannel under his normal puffy black coat. “But it’s pink!”

“So?” Nursey says mulishly, crossing his arms.

Will pops the trunk and takes their suitcases. “You’ve _been_ to Maine. This is not blending.”

“Do I need to worry about blending?” Nursey’s mom asks with a grin on her face. She’s in what Will would call ‘teacher clothes’, the sort of business casual his mom wore every day to work. Considering the very nice suit she was wearing when she first came to the hospital and the one she wore to the funeral, Will’s pretty sure this is her version of dressed down.

“You, Ms. Aida, were meant to stand out.” Will tells her as he slams the trunk closed, eyes still finding their way back to Nursey in that awful, awful shirt.

She laughs. Nursey makes an offended noise, but he’s smiling too. “Please, drop the ‘Ms.’ Makes me feel old.”

“Yes ma’am.” Will says as he opens the passenger door for her. She climbs in, and Nursey snags him as he starts to cross to the driver’s side.

“You were so busy chirping me you forgot to say hello.” Nursey says as he pulls Will in for a hug. He finds himself clinging, needing the contact, the reassurance, more than he realized, turning what was probably meant to be a quick hug hello into a real, heartfelt embrace. Nursey just holds on, lets him bury his nose in that awful coat and inhale. It smells like travel, that weird recycled air smell, rather than Nursey, but it’s ok because he’s pretty sure that if he’d ended up actually sniffing his boyfriend he’d die of embarrassment. He pulls away, glances around, and gives Nursey a quick kiss before darting around and into the car. Nursey’s little grin is worth the quick race of nerves that any kind of PDA still gives him, especially here.

“So, remind me what your mother’s name is?” Nursey’s mom asks as they pull away from the curb. Will’s pretty sure she saw them but is pretending she didn’t.

“Anna. Mom’s name is Anna. My dad’s Tim, my sisters are Sarah and Gracie – Sarah’s the older one – and my brother –“ He stops, clears his throat. “My brother’s David. You won’t meet him.”

Will appreciates the way Nursey leans forward and squeezes his shoulder, but he appreciates more that his mom gives him only a single sympathetic look before launching into a bewilderingly technical discussion about the growth of the overseas robotics industry.

He’s so tired of even thinking about it, all the ways things have been going wrong. It feels like every member of the family has called at some point over the past several days, and while some are offering support, it’s still awkward that he even needs the support, and then there are the ones like Aunt Rachel, who was screaming so loud everyone could hear her even over the phone, who made his mother turn white and freeze until finally, Dad pulled the phone away and hung up. Then there are the reasonable ones, who want to know why everything had to be so _drastic_ , as if Will and his parents overreacted. Those might be the worse, because Will, sometimes, wonders that, too. If he even has the right to be glad that David’s gone. Either way, he’s spent a lot of time hiding in his room, or when he gets tired of staring at David’s empty bed, Sarah’s room. Which, now that he thinks about it, was sort of how he was planning to spend the break anyway, just with less…everything.

Nursey’s mom asks a question, and he dredges up an answer, and tries to lose himself in the conversation instead of his own head. He’s mostly successful.

 

***

 

His mom greets them at the door. “Hi!” She practically chirps. “You must be Nursey’s mom.”

“Yes.” Nursey’s mom smiles and holds out her hand. “Aida Dahmani, call me Aida, nice to meet you.”

“Anna Poindexter.” They shake hands. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Come in?”

Will squints at her. She’s using her ‘company’ voice, a little too bright, a little too sweet, which he gets, they haven’t met, but she also seems weirdly…. nervous, chattering as they walk down the hall, Will and Nursey hauling the two suitcases behind them. “You’ll be in Sarah’s room – the first door on the right upstairs – bathroom’s across the hall. I don’t know if there’s anything you’re interested in seeing or doing while you’re here – I’m sure the boys are just going to want to hang out – but if you get bored, there’s some decent museums over in Rockland, interesting local shops, that sort of thing…”

Nursey leans over to hiss in his ear. “Freaking out yet?”

“No.” Will hisses back with a glare. His mom chattering is normal, except for the tone of her voice, and Nursey’s mom seems to just be nodding along, and Sarah’s obviously not here or she would have appeared already, so they’ve avoided that meeting for a little longer, and he’s sure no one else has noticed his mom’s nervousness so things are going fine. Good, even.

“So please, make yourself at home.” She finishes as they enter the living room.

Nursey’s mom – _Aida_ , he reminds himself, he can’t keep calling her Nursey’s mom now that he knows her – looks around the living room with a smile. Will follows her gaze and realizes suddenly how different it looks from the perfect, pretty living room in her brownstone, with the old TV stand Dad had found on the side of the road and fixed up, the slightly shabby couch with it’s mismatched pillows and, at least for now, folded throw blanket, the handmade bookshelves that line one wall, nothing like the built-ins all over Nursey’s house. He swallows, and refuses to feel ashamed. The couch is comfortable, even if there’s a pasta sauce stain under one of the cushions, and he helped build at least half of those bookshelves stuffed with worn paperbacks.

“You have a lovely home.” Nursey’s – Aida – tells his mother, wandering over to the bookshelves. Will doesn’t know her well enough to know if it’s sincere. She stops and pulls out one of the brightly colored romances. “Oh! Do you read Mary Kay Andrews?”

His mom beams, and Will exhales. “Yes! Have you had a chance yet to read her newest one? I know it’s sort of an odd author for someone from Maine, but they’re just so funny, and well…“

“I know! I picked one up in the airport on a whim and just got _hooked_. I mean, the characters - ”

The two continue their excited discussion. Will and Nursey exchange glances. Will jerks his head towards the stairs and lifts an eyebrow. Nursey nods. They sneak away with the bags. Will throws Aida’s in Sarah’s room as they pass.

“Well, that went better than I though it would.” Nursey says once he’s collapsed on David’s – _the extra_ bed in Will’s room.

“Your mom doesn’t strike me as the romance novel type.” Will tells him, trying to be casual about the fact that he’s avoiding sitting on David’s bed. He pretends to be fiddling with something on his desk.

“Lots of time on airplanes.” Is the absentminded explanation, and Will looks up to see Nursey watching him, an odd look on his face.

“What?” He asks belligerently, crossing his arms and aware that his reaction is too aggressive but unable to stop it.

“Dude, are you ok?” Nursey asks, the look now one of worry.

“I’m fine.” Will huffs, turning back to his desk, picking up the piece of – he squints at it – toaster? whatever – he’s been running through his fingers.

“Uh-huh.” Nursey says behind him, disbelieving. Will refuses to turn around. He hears rustling and then Nursey’s next to him, pulling the small piece of metal away, gripping his wrist with too much gentleness. “It’s ok if you’re not.

Will doesn’t look at him. “Really, Nursey, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said the week after my dad’s funeral and you still sat with me when I broke down in tears over a fucking tie.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s ok to ask for help, Dex.”

And Will, hates, hates, that his words are getting spit back at him, because he’s said that to Nursey too many times to count, and of course he would start believing it exactly when it’s least convenient for Will, who is fine, has been fine, has to be fine because everything’s already messed up enough as it is and there’s _no way_ to fix it. And even if he could he isn’t sure he wants to, isn’t sure he really wants David back. He pulls out of Nursey’s grip, despite the part of him that is desperate to lean in, to let Nursey comfort him, and he’s not sure why.

“Will.” Nursey says softly, and doesn’t move away, though he doesn’t reach out and touch again.

“I can’t, Derek.” He finally admits, bracing himself on the desktop, staring down at the mess of papers and metal pieces. “I’ve caused enough problems already.”

There’s a moment of quiet. “Wait. What? No. You’re – you’re not a problem. Ok?”

Will looks over at Nursey’s confused, angry expression, and wearily points out the obvious. “I ruined Christmas and my entire extended family is now engaged in taking sides. People keep calling, and yelling, and sometimes they’re yelling about me and sometimes about David or sometimes just about the fact that we skipped Christmas mass, and yeah, I’m pretty sure I was the cause of all that.”

Nursey crosses his arms and glares. “No. I –“

And then someone pounds on the door. “Get decent and come help set the table!” Sarah yells.

“Go away!” Will yells back, secretly relieved to be interrupted.

“No!” She says cheerfully, and starts tapping out shave-and-a-haircut on the door.

He groans. “She’ll knock until we come out.”

Nursey is now glaring at the door. “I love your sister, but she has awful timing.”

“I know. Come on.” Will goes to the door and yanks it open in the hope that maybe Sarah will overbalance or at least get flustered at the sight of his death glare. There’s no such luck, and she just grins and waves over his shoulder at Nursey.

“Hey Nursey! Good to see you again!” She turns back to Will. “Mom said to come set the table.”

“Yeah, I heard you _yell through the door_.” He says.

She smiles, a teasing look in her eyes. “I thought you might have been distracted.”

He knows he’s blushing. “Sarah. No.”

Her innocent look quit working on him at the age of five. She still tries it. “What? You didn’t have to be distracted by something scandalous.”

Her eyebrow wiggle makes Nursey laugh and Will turn redder. He brushes past her without making eye contact and stalks towards the stairs. Nursey catches up almost immediately and slips a hand around his waist, slowing him down just long enough to press a kiss to his temple.

“We’re talking about this later.” Nursey whispers in his ear as he pulls away, and Will forces himself to keep moving, not to turn in to the comfort Nursey’s so clearly offering. “Do I have to set the table?” He asks Sarah, teasing. “I’m a guest.”

“Derek. You lived here for almost a month this summer. You no longer count. Also, what are you _wearing_?” She says, and Will listens to them tease back and forth until their voices fade. He wonders when Sarah started calling him Derek. He wonders why it doesn’t seem strange.

He walks into the kitchen and stops short at the sight of his mom and Nursey’s mom laughing helplessly, one at the table and the other at the stove, his mom in the middle of what has to be some sort of awful story. “And then, he turns around – and he had this adorable little lisp when he was that age – and puts his hands on his hips and says, ‘No, no fiwsh. Put them back!’, and then he picks it up out of the bucket and dumps it back in the ocean!”

“Mom!” Will protests, turning red, because why _that_ story, and they look over at him and start laughing harder. He stalks past them to the cabinet and grabs a stack of plates. He’s happy they’re getting along, he is, but he’s also very aware that it means all the family stories will be dragged out at some point over the next few days. He sets out about half of the plates, still blushing, before the laughter trails off completely.

“Where’s your sister?” His mom manages to ask, wiping tears out of her eyes. He, begrudgingly, admits to himself that the embarrassment might have been worth it just to see her laugh that hard. “She’s supposed to help.”

“She’s upstairs with Nursey.” He tells her, counting out silverware. “I vote she has to fill all the glasses.”

“Fine with me.” His mom says, just as Sarah and Nursey walk in.

“You’ve got glasses.” He tells her with relish, reaching around Nursey’s – _Aida_ – to put down a fork.

“Nooo.” She groans. “Glasses are the _worst.”_

He smirks, minor payback for earlier, and finishes with the silverware as she starts filling glasses with ice. Aida starts asking Sarah questions about school, and where she plans to go to college, as his mom opens the oven to check on the salmon. Nursey watches them with soft smile, leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets, that ridiculous pink flannel – he needs to remember to thank Chowder for it – hanging loose and unbuttoned. Will wants to go over, curl up against him, let him put his arms around him, wants that look of contentment, of ease. But it’s the kitchen, and their parents are there, and there’s something too raw, too weird, about showing that much need here. He restrains himself to standing next to him, brushing shoulders instead, casual, easy, nothing anyone would comment on, and tells himself it’s enough.

“Your dad and Gracie got stuck at the hardware store.” His mom says over Sarah and Aida’s conversation, debating the merits of all-female colleges. “We’ll start when they get here.”

Will frowns. “Gracie voluntarily spent the day at the store?”

His mom shakes her head. “She was over at the McMannons.”

And that makes more sense. Gracie _hates_ the hardware store, but Shelby McMannon is one of Gracie’s friends, Will’s pretty sure her best friend, even if Gracie insists that all her friends deserve that title. And the McMannons – they’re good people, with a son Sarah’s age who she says is at least half-decent – which is high praise for her – and another daughter in between the son and Shelby. He’s pretty sure they know, somehow, and have made it a point to invite Gracie over, get her out of the house. He thinks, half-hysterically, that they’d do the same if this was a divorce, before realizing that it basically is, just not of his parents.

“How’s Mrs. McMannon?” He asks, determined to escape the inside of his head.

“Well, her mother wasn’t doing so well, but she’s gotten better, and Jake –“

“That’s Mrs. McMannon’s son.” Will mutters for Nursey’s sake. “You might have met them while you were here, actually.”

“They were at that BBQ.” His mom interjects. “Anyway, he got accepted into UMaine.”

Will is saved from having to think up something to say about that by the arrival of Gracie and his dad. Gracie squeals and runs to hug Nursey, and makes him promise to play a board game with her that night. His dad goes and shakes Aida’s hand. Will hears them murmuring quiet introductions. This, honestly, is the interaction he’s most worried about, how Nursey’s very put-together, controlled mother will react to his gruff, friendly father.

It turns out he shouldn’t have worried. They’ve barely sat down before the two are arguing about, of all things, hockey. Gracie pulled Nursey over to sit next to her (he managed, barely, not to follow), but it means that he can’t lean over and ask when Aida became an Islanders fan. If it was before or after Nursey started playing hockey. If he went to games as a kid. If they argue over teams at the dinner table, since Nursey’s a Rangers fan.

And really, it’s not because it never came up, hockey has always, even from the beginning, been something he and Nursey can talk about, it’s just that he didn’t care, because it didn’t matter, not really, what his d-man’s mom thought about hockey. And then he half-hated her, and then he didn’t, but he still would have never thought to ask. There’s a hollowness in that thought, that he still knows so little of Nursey’s mother, despite having met her, despite the fact that she’s been basically his whole family for so long. When they first got together he thought Nursey didn’t talk about her because he didn’t want to. Now, he’s worried that it was because Nursey thought he wouldn’t understand.

And maybe, at one point he wouldn’t have, unable to see the quiet affection that is clear between Aida and her son, so different from the demonstrative nature of his own mother, but he gets it now, has understood since he watched them at a funeral, standing with the same rigid spine and shuttered face, since he heard the way Nursey speaks to her over the phone, quiet, soft, slipping sometimes into Arabic, since she called him one day – he’s still not sure how she got his number – and told him to get back to their room, where he found Nursey, exhausted and shaking from too little sleep and too much caffeine and trying not to cry over his homework.

Family, he thinks, is so much more and less complicated than he used to believe.

“So, Andy.” He hears Nursey ask, and looks up from plate to see him grinning, slightly wicked, at Sarah. “How is he?”

Sarah, to Will’s eternal delight, _blushes_. “Fine.”

“Who’s Andy?” His mom asks, eyebrow raised.

“Andy Walsh.” Sarah mutters. “He’s helping with the library project.”

“Jesus, Sarah –“

“Language.” His father mutters.

“ – How many people are in on this thing anyway?” Will asks. “I thought it was _small_.”

Sarah winces, looks down. “Er, most of the senior class? I mean, that’s why we need another locker, we’ve got about a hundred books – “

“A _hundred_?” Will interrupts. He glances at Nursey, who looks smug. “How much enabling did you _do_?”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sarah says before Nursey can do more than smirk at Will. “Even with most of them out in circulation at any given time I’m running out of room and so far we’ve just been dividing them up between a bunch of people but a central location would make everything so much easier…”

“Wait.” This time it’s Aida who interrupts, glancing between her son and Will’s sister. “What’s going on?” 

“Literary anarchy.” Will’s dad tells her through a mouthful of green beans. Mom gives him a look, and he hastily swallows.

“Our daughter, with the help of your son,” She explains, exasperated, “Has started her own school library of all the books the English teacher considers in someway obscene.”

“They’re not obscene!” Sarah protests. “Just…not…always politically correct? Besides, Ms. Waters thinks _Heart of Darkness_ is obscene and it’s a classic.”

“So is _Lady Chatterley’s Lover_.” Aida points out, amused. “Doesn’t mean it’s not, in some ways, obscene.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, censorship is bad, I should be able to read _Bad Feminist_ if I want to.”

“ _I_ want to –“ Gracie starts, only to be interrupted by his mom’s firm _no_.

“So, what else has Derek been sending you?” Aida asks, and Sarah starts listing a long, bewildering series of books and authors, several of which Will recognizes from Nursey’s bookshelf, almost none of which he’s read. Aida’s eyebrows rise slightly in surprise, and she shoots a look at her son, one that says they’ll discuss this later. Nursey drops his gaze, but he’s still smirking. Will wishes he was close enough to kick him in the ankle, or kiss or him, or maybe just demand more information about this Andy guy.

Nursey catches him looking and winks, his grin softening, more real. Will smiles back, helpless, and probably far too raw, until Nursey turns to answer a question from Gracie. Will looks down, goes back to staring at his plate, picking at the food, love and yearning and something like grief all tangled up inside him, until his mom puts a hand on his wrist. He looks over at her, trying for a less revealing expression, but she just squeezes his wrist and leans over to half-whisper, “It’s ok to show you love him. I’m glad you do.”

And he doesn’t know what to do with that, whether to be pleased or angry, to feel relieved at having permission or shout that he shouldn’t need it, to ask if this is something she would say to Sarah if she brought home a boy, if this is something she’d ever considered saying to David. _This is hard enough_ , he thinks, _do you understand that,_ and he knows she means it be reassuring, and in some ways it is, his mom telling him that she approves, but in others it’s a blow, a reminder that a space he thought of as safe isn’t, or wasn’t, and maybe, just maybe, has the potential to not be again.

“Thanks Mom.” He tells her, mustering up a smile before turning back to listen to Aida and Sarah discuss the merits of someone named Gwendolyn Brooks.

 

***

 

That night, after board games (Gracie insisted on Clue this time – Will managed to win one round), as they’re getting ready for bed, Nursey tries again.

“You sure everything’s ok?”

“Yes.” Will tells him with a roll of his eyes, because even if it’s not, it’s better than it has been, and they’re alone now, finally, and Will can spend the night wrapped up in Nursey without feeling too self-conscious about it. “Come here?”

He lifts the covers on his bed to let Nursey crawl in next to him, plastering himself against the wall so they both at least sort of fit. Will’s fully aware that his parents believe they’re sleeping in separate beds, which is the only reason they’re allowed to share the room, but even if Will cared, which he doesn’t, there is no fucking way he’s letting Nursey sleep in David’s bed. He’s choosing to ignore why he’s so against even the idea. Nursey tucks himself under Will’s chin, slots a knee in between his legs, slings an arm over his ribs. He feels himself relax, and tries to figure out when Nursey became relaxing, when his touch became a comfort rather than a reason to tense.

“So, this is going way better than I expected.” Nursey mumbles into his collarbone.

Will runs a hand down his back. “Yeah, since when does your mom like the Islanders?”

“My dad –” Nursey stops, swallows, gets quieter. “My dad took her to a game for a date. She loved it. And – and kept going back.”

“Is that how you ended up in skates?” Will asks, his voice coming out rough. Nursey rarely mentions his father these days, and when he does it’s usually because of Kate.

“No.” He pauses, considering “Well, maybe a little bit? Had to have a sport at Andover and I knew hockey, at least some, and then it turned out I was good.”

Will knows this part of the story, the way Nursey had discovered that on ice his body made sense, that the limbs he hadn’t grown into yet worked they way they were supposed to. He’d heard it freshman year, when all the frogs were trading stories of how they ended up at Samwell, ended up playing hockey. Even back then, when almost everything Nursey said annoyed Will, he’d recognized the joy and awe in Nursey’s story, his helpless wonder that this, this at least he could do.

(“What about poetry?” Will had asked, over a year later when the topic came up again.

Nursey just shook his head, laughed, a strange note to the sound. “I didn’t realize I was good at that until junior year. And – and poetry’s hard, you know? It’s super subjective, and there’s ‘good for a high school student’ and then _actually_ good and I was always half-worried that people were just being kind, or that I was only good in comparison to the rest of the class, or… Hockey was – is – easier.”

And they weren’t dating yet, hadn’t even slept together, and Will didn’t like poetry, but he wanted, at that moment, seeing Nursey half-turn away with a too-easy smile, to have Nursey sit him down and recite every poem he’d ever written, just so Will could tell him they were beautiful.)

“Bet your mom was excited about that.” Will says, preferring not to dwell too much on a young Nursey, awkward and unsure, and he knows now, often alone.

Nursey shrugs, his shoulders moving under Will’s hand. “I guess. It didn’t matter.”

Will sits up at that, bracing himself on an elbow so he can look down at Nursey’s tipped-up face. “What do you mean?”

“As long as I was enjoying it, it could have been… competitive ping-pong, or something else equally ridiculous, and she still would have been excited.” Nursey smiles, runs his hand through Will’s hair.

“Oh.” Will collapses back on the bed, relieved and a little jealous.

Nursey snuggles back in to his chest. “Besides, it’s not like she could come to the games.”

“And – and that doesn’t bother you?” Will asks, trying to imagine it, what it would be like knowing no one would be there to cheer you on. “Really?”

Another shrug. “Maybe it did, a little, but I understood, you know? She had a job, a life. She always came when she could, and that – that was enough. Had to be enough.”

Will wonders at the trade-off, if it was worth it to have a mom who accepted exactly who you were, even if she wasn’t, couldn’t, always be there, even if you were often alone. Maybe someday, he’ll figure out how to ask that question, or if he even wants to. Right now, he’s still afraid of the answer. 

“I’m glad she could come this time.” He murmurs.

“Me too.” Nursey replies, shifting closer, already half-asleep.

Will tightens his arm, lets his fingers draw slow patterns across Nursey’s shoulders, and tries to fall asleep.

 

***

 

The next morning, Will wakes up first, still groggy, and carefully wiggles out from underneath Nursey, who makes a grumpy noise and burrows deeper into the covers. He gets dressed, and smoothes a gentle hand over the approximate location of Nursey’s head before sneaking out the door and heading downstairs.

This early, it’s probably too cold for a run, so he heads instead for the kitchen, sock-clad feet quiet on the wood, avoiding the stair creaks from long experience. He feels almost peaceful for the first time in days, and it’ll be nice, to get a cup of coffee and sit on the porch watching the world. At the Haus, Chowder will join him, sometimes, or on even more rare occasions, Bitty, and he loves it, the quiet companionship, the way everyone agrees to a level of stillness and silence, generally broken when Ollie comes stumbling down the stairs. He hears voices coming from the kitchen and pauses, confused. He knows one of the people is his mom, but it takes him a moment to recognize the second voice as Aida’s. The tone seems somber for so early in the morning and while he’s not meaning to eavesdrop, he catches the end of a sentence he’s sure is not meant for him.

“…it was the right thing, I know that, I do, but he’s still my kid, and…it’s not easy.”

Will stops, unable to do anything else but listen, as his mom keeps speaking.

“Is it bad of me, to hope that this will all work out some day? To want David – to want him back? What he said…it was horrible, really horrible, and he wasn’t at all sorry, but still –“

“No. It’s…” Aida pauses. “We all want that, I think. After Adam – Derek’s father – left, there was still – there was a time when I hoped he’d come back, and then a time when I knew I wouldn’t want him to, but I still wanted him to be better, for Derek at least.”

“And did he? Get better?” Will’s mom asks, and, and he sneaks away, every bit of that peaceful feeling gone, before he can hear the answer he already knows. It actually isn’t, he decides, too cold for a run, or at least a brisk walk, something, anything, that will get him out of this house, full of too many reminders of everything he’s lost and still has to lose.

 

***

 

When he gets back, still jumbled up inside, a mix of hate and fear and sorrow, the run doing nothing except making him cold, everyone is awake and in the kitchen, and Nursey – _Nursey_ – is attempting to make fried eggs.

“No, nope, we are not doing this again.” Will says as he hurries to take the pan from Nursey, embracing the distraction. “We decided, you are only allowed to make scrambled eggs, and that’s only under supervision.”

“Why?” Gracie asks, sitting at the table drinking her milk coffee, which is just a glass of warm milk with the smallest splash of actual coffee. Over the summer, she’d painstakingly taught Nursey how to make it, until finally, a few days before he left, she declared it ‘just as good as Will’s! 

“Because,” Nursey says with a long suffering sigh, though he gives the pan over to Will easily enough, “the last time I made fried eggs they both exploded everywhere and got stuck to the pan. But it was just once!”

“Yes,” Will says grimly, “because that was enough. It took me and Bitty _two hours_ to find and clean up all the egg bits, not to mention trying to clean the pan. I _still_ don’t know how you did it. And that was _after_ the first two failed attempts.”

“You’ll just have to make them for me forever, then.” Nursey says before reaching out to ruffle Will’s hair. Will ducks out of it with a scowl. “Jesus, you’re freezing.”

“Went for a run.” Will says, ignoring the way the forever in that sentence made his belly tighten.

“You’re crazy.” Sarah informs him from her seat at the table. “At least wait for the afternoon when it’s a little warmer.”

Will shrugs, unwilling to explain why it was so necessary. He flips the eggs. “Who wants one?”

A chorus of _me_ starts up, from everyone but his dad, who’s just finishing up a bowl of oatmeal and some toast. Will checks the clock and yep, it’s about time for him to head over to the store. He’s only half-awake, and Will knows from experience that he’ll remain only half-awake for at least another hour, but he’s been running the hardware store since he was sixteen, and could do it actually asleep. Will slides the first set of eggs onto a plate, passing them to Nursey who takes them to the table, and cracks more in the pan.

His mom pours the last of the coffee into a travel mug and puts it next to his dad’s elbow with a quick kiss. “Honey, time for you to go.”

His dad looks up, blearily, at the clock, groans, and levers himself up, barely remembering to grab the coffee as he shambles out to the car. Aida, who’s been reading something on her tablet and appears to be ignoring everything else, barely stifles a snort. It’s supposed to be easy, normal, and Will does his best to lose himself in the morning rhythm, let the conversation – something about some movie Gracie wants to see – wash over him, focusing just on the task before him, trying to relax into the familiarity. It could be Saturday morning at the Haus, though it’s both quieter and earlier than it would be there, or any of a dozen family breakfasts from his childhood, just with the addition of Nursey’s voice, currently raised in fake indignation.

“Will, could you do another round of bacon?” His mom asks, waiting impatiently for the next pot of coffee to brew.

“Of course.” He says. “Nursey, can I have that plate back? These eggs are almost done. And grab the bacon while you’re up?”

Nursey mutters an acknowledgment through a mouthful of toast, and snags the last piece of bacon as he stands, ignoring Sarah’s muttered ‘hey’. He brings Will both the plate and the package of uncooked bacon and then drapes himself over Will while he moves the eggs from pan to plate. Will tries not to flinch, his body caught in this odd limbo between wanting to stiffen and relax, suddenly aware of his mother’s eyes on him, on them.

“Thanks babe.” Nursey says, kissing him on the cheek before peeling himself off and taking the refilled plate back to the table. Will manages a smile before focusing on the bacon, making sure each strip is laid carefully flat, nudging the temperature down with his elbow before going to wash his hands. _Normal_ , he reminds himself. _This is normal, and ok, and allowed_. Maybe if he keeps saying that, he’ll start to actually believe it.

 

***

 

Unfortunately, Nursey notices something’s off. He forgets sometimes, how well Nursey knows him, that they’ve spent months now sharing a room and then a bed, that even before that they were partners on the ice, had to be aware of every muscle shift, learn a language wordless but now well-known. And Will’s never been good at hiding how he feels, not the way Nursey sometimes can, putting on a cheerful mask that fooled Will less and less the more they got to know each other. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that Nursey realizes something’s wrong, but somehow, Will still wasn’t expecting to get called out on it.

Sarah, semi-grudgingly, had agreed to take Gracie to the movies, and their moms decided to drive over to Rockland, a trip he and Nursey only got out of because Will said he wanted to show Nursey the overlook that he’d been too sore to properly explore when he was here over the summer. Their moms exchanged glances at that, but they’d still agreed to leave them alone.

So the house is empty when Nursey ambushes Will in his room.

“Seriously, have you seen my keys?” Will asks when he sees Nursey in the doorway, before focusing again on the inside of his backpack. He always, always puts his keys in the front zippered pocket, but they’re not there, which means he has no fucking clue where they are, and while he wasn’t taking Nursey to the overlook, he was planning on driving them up into the hills and parking somewhere quiet so they could make out for a while, an activity he finds himself reluctant to do in this house, especially when he’s half-hopeful it’ll lead to something more.

He looks up when the door snicks closed. “Nurse? What’s –“

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Nursey states flatly, staring at the floor, his arms crossed.

“My keys are missing?” Will says, aware of where this is most likely going, but determined to feign confusion. He _does not_ want to talk about this, especially not with his boyfriend. “I mean, those are sort of important, and could be fucking anywhere at this point, cause they’re not –“

“Will.” Nursey interrupts, softer. Will swallows at the use of his first name. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

And Nursey’s not even looking at him, eyes on his own feet, as if that makes it easier, and sometimes it does, but right now it just looks like shame, and Nursey’s got nothing to be ashamed of, he’s not the one who messed things up, who can’t get his head on straight, who can’t just let this thing with his brother go. It’s wrong, and Will can’t stand it, and wants to be closer but can’t make himself move. His voice comes out a croak. “It’s nothing. 

Finally, Nursey’s eyes come up to meet his, and the worry in them is almost overwhelming. “Nope. Try again.”

Now Will looks away. “It’s not important. Just me being stupid.”

“Really? Because you are rarely ever stupid, and whatever’s bothering you I’m sure has something to do with your brother, and you can’t tell me that’s not important.” Nursey pauses, takes a breath. “You were crying. Do you know how terrifying that was? You don’t cry, not _ever_ , and I got that text from Sarah, and I called, and called, and when you finally picked up you were in tears! I – I can’t – I don’t want – to do that again. Listen to you cry over a fucking phone line. It was….” He stops, shakes his head. “Dex. Will. Please let me help.”

“Derek…” Will starts, not sure what comes after, not sure if he wants to deny or deflect or give in and spill his guts. Not sure whether he even knows what he’s feeling well enough to explain it to someone else. “I…I don’t know if I can. Tell you, I mean. Make it make sense.”

“ _Try_.” Nursey says, fierce.

Will starts to pace, up and down and back across, from the dresser to the door to the desk to the bed and back again, trying to figure out what to say, where to start. Nursey just waits, watching him, his face trying to rearrange into ‘chill’ and not quite managing it. Will keeps glancing over and looking away as soon as their eyes meet. He stops, finally, at the desk, keeps his back to Nursey, despite the gaze he can feel. “I caught my mom crying over David’s Christmas presents. And had no fucking clue what to do. I…”

He reaches for a gear, grips it in one hand. “It feels like I’ve ruined everything.” Nursey makes a noise that he ignores. “And it is stupid, because this is what I wanted, to be accepted, but I didn’t – instead of me getting kicked out it was David, and I know it’s not the same, but still I – I never wanted this, any of this, and I’m glad he’s gone cause I still get this sick feeling just looking at his bed, but I – I also want him back, which is _stupid_ , ok? And I _know_ that.”

Nursey’s quiet for long enough that Will gets worried, thinks about turning around and seeing his expression, but he just keeps playing with the cog, rolling it over and over in his hand. Finally, after what feels like forever, there’s a hand on his back, soft, barely there, and he shudders but still doesn’t turn around. 

“This isn’t your fault.” Will shakes his head, and suddenly that hand is gripping at his shoulder. “No. Listen. _This isn’t your fault_. You are not responsible for your brother being a terrible human.”

“And the rest of my family?” He asks, clenching his fist around the piece of metal. “They’re the ones having to deal with the fallout, not me, and I’m the cause, I’m –“

“ _No_. Will.” Nursey sounds ragged. “None of this is on you. None. Your brother’s the one who said those things, who caused all this, it is _his fault_. All of it.”

There’s a moment, a stillness, full of Will’s jagged breathing and Nursey’s firm grip, before he breaks, collapses, turns into Derek’s arms and lets himself hold and be held.

“I’m trying to believe that.” He murmurs into Nursey’s shoulder, too exhausted for anything like tears but with that same kind of desperation.

Nursey shushes him, grips at the back of his neck. They stay like that for a while, and when Will goes to pull away Nursey just squeezes tighter. “You can ask for this, you know. I’m – touch is good.”

Will snorts, but relaxes further into Nursey’s grip. “I know. It’s just – here, with everything, it’s hard.”

Nursey pulls away at that, just far enough that he can peer at Will’s face. “What do you mean?”

And shit, this, this was the part he really didn’t want to tell Nursey, because he’s sure it will just hurt him, and he’s equally sure it’s all in his head, part of the general messed-up-ness that explains why he hid liking guys for so long, why he still sometimes hides, why he has to make a conscious effort to reach for Nursey’s hand in public, even sometimes at Samwell, where he knows it’s safe. He looks down. 

Nursey takes his head in his hands and lifts until they’re once again meeting each other’s eyes. “Will. Has – have they said something? To – to make you think that it’s – this – is not…ok?”

Will steps back, out of Nursey’s hands, unable to deal with his obvious worry, and even less able to deal with the anger he sees simmering underneath. He scrubs a hand through his hair. “No. Not – not recently, at least. They’ve been – well, weirdly supportive, considering everything. It’s just – everything was going so well, I’d told them, about you, us, and I’d been half-expecting some kind of fight, but it didn’t happen, they just said they were glad, were happy for me, and I started to – and then David, and I didn’t know. I mean, I knew there’d be some aunts and uncles who wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t care about them, not really, but David – I thought I was _safe_ , and then I wasn’t, and now –“

He stops, paces a few steps, hand gripping his hair, wanting something to throw, to destroy, to _do_. Anything so he can stop thinking about this.

“And now what?” Nursey asks, one hand clenched in a fist, the other reaching, just slightly, for Will.

“Now –” He takes a shuddering breath. “What if they decide I’m not worth it? They say they’re ok now, but what if it’s just _saying_ that, and _seeing_ it, having to live with it, that’s _different_. And – and I’m bracing myself again, every time, for the rejection, the _words_ , and I thought I was done with that, that I could just be happy, and have them be happy for me, and they are, or they say they are, and still, I’m – I can’t forget.“

Another silence, but this one, Will’s looking at Nursey, who’s gone abruptly, worryingly blank, too relaxed for the conversation they’re having, have been having. And Will hates it, hates not being able to read Nursey, hates when he retreats like this, pretends nothing can bother him, nothing can touch him, because it usually means something has, and Will can never figure out exactly what.

“Will.” Nursey says, too casual. “Come here.”

Will goes. As soon as he’s in range, Nursey grabs him, pulls him close, and kisses him, hard, licking into his mouth as Will gasps. It’s overwhelming, and it takes him a moment before he starts kissing back with the same fevered intensity. 

“Love you, love you, you’re perfect, love you.” Nursey whispers in between kisses, quick and sure and desperate. Will ignores the way the words are making him blush and just kisses deeper, refusing to release Nursey’s mouth until they’re both gasping. Nursey shifts, trails his lips up Will’s cheek, past his temple, onto his forehead before taking a half-step back, hands still curled around Will’s biceps. “I’ll – whatever you need, I’ll do it, if you don’t want me to – to touch you, or whatever else, I won’t, I –“ 

“Nursey –” Will starts, because that’s not what he wants, not really, not at all, but Nursey just speaks over him.

“No, listen – it’s not your fault you’re afraid, ok?”

“I’m not –“ Afraid, he wants to say, but Nursey still won’t let him get more than a word in.

“You shouldn’t have to be, it’s not fair, other people don’t have to be, but I get it, I do, and the things Sarah said he said to you – and it’s _ok_ to be afraid, I’m afraid every time I see one of those stupid Samwell cops, and I know that’s probably an overreaction but it’s also _not_ , and that’s quite not the same thing, I know, it’s not my family, but –“

“ _Derek_.” Will reaches out to grabs Nursey’s arm and he stops babbling, mouth all but clicking shut. He gets it, he thinks, and the surge of warmth in his gut is from more than just the kissing, but he wants to be sure. “Where were you going with this?”

“Right.” Nursey takes a deep breath. “It’s not your fault, and it’s ok to be afraid, but – in this case at least, I don’t think you have to be.” He pauses, smiles, soft and small and tremulous. “Also, I love you. Always.”

“Love you too.” Will replies, automatic as breathing, and pulls him back in for more kissing, because Nursey gets it, he understands, and for now that’s more than enough.

Nursey pulls back reluctantly after the first, almost chaste, kiss. “Are you ok now?”

Will considers, shrugs. “I will be.”

“Good.” Nursey says, and backs him onto the bed.

And if Will goes a little stiff that night when Nursey pulls him into his lap as they watch a movie, he relaxes soon enough, and no one says a word.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Mentions of homophobia, particularly from family members, minor internalized homophobia.


End file.
